


Bloody Mary

by justrae2010



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blood, Curses, Dare, Exams, Falling In Love, Fear, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Legends, M/M, Murder, Spirits, Suicidal Thoughts, Truth or Dare, Witch Curses, kind of slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justrae2010/pseuds/justrae2010
Summary: The legend was that she’d kill you. That she’d be there in the mirror after saying her name three times, wrecked and dripping in blood, ready to snag your soul, rip you to pieces and trap you in the mirror forever… but it was just a story, Yuuri told himself, shaking off the nudge in the back of his mind. It was just a story. A dumb story to get gullible people like him to do stupid things that his friends could all laugh about, but none of it was real. It couldn’t be real.Could it?“... Bloody Mary.”Yuuri opened his eyes….…. and screamed.Major Character Death warning added to be on the safe side.





	Bloody Mary

**Author's Note:**

> As per usual, this is totally not edited yet ( that will be my job this weekend xD ) so... please be kind xD

“Bloody Mary…”

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real, Yuuri thought as the name left his lips for the first time, feeling the heat of the candle flicker against the underside of his chin and his heartbeat wrack up a few notches at the darkness behind his closed eyes. Was his breath always so loud?

“...Bloody Mary…”

It couldn’t be real.

He could hear Phichit laughing in the other room - in his bedroom - probably at Yuuri’s expense. Well, he had shamefully lost a dare, been bullied out of choosing Truth again, and was currently standing in his bathroom like a jackass with a candle and dumb teenage superstition. Bloody Mary couldn’t be real though.

The chill creeping up the back of his spine felt real though, the shudder through his system, and the tiny hairs lifting on his arms...

For a moment, he paused.

The legend was that she’d kill you. That she’d be there in the mirror after saying her name three times, wrecked and dripping in blood, ready to snag your soul, rip you to pieces and trap you in the mirror forever…  _ but it was just a story, _ Yuuri told himself, shaking off the nudge in the back of his mind. It was just a story. A dumb story to get gullible people like him to do stupid things that his friends could all laugh about, but none of it was real. It couldn’t be real.

Could it?

“... Bloody Mary.”

Yuuri opened his eyes….

…. and screamed.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t want to play, Phichit.” Yuuri had said three hours earlier while gathering up his textbooks from the library table and he slung his jacket over his shoulder, eyeing the clock across the wall with disdain. Time was slipping through his fingers, exams looming ever closer and every time Yuuri sat down to study, all he seemed to do was blink before it was closing time. He still barely understood the contents of his textbook. He was screwed.

And he definitely didn’t have time for any of Phichit’s little pity parties when he could be busy cramming instead.

“Come on, Yuuri!” Phichit just whined, jogging up behind him in the corridor, his own textbooks clutched close to his chest. “Just you, me, Leo, Guang Hong … and maybe a couple of beers and pizza, but who’s counting?”

Yuuri didn’t break his stride. “I have to study.”

He didn’t have to see Phichit to know his head had knocked back dramatically, shoulders slumping and staring up at the ceiling as he groaned.

“Come  _ on,” _ his best friend all but whined. “Don’t be so boring! One night off won’t hurt.”

“The exam is the day after tomorrow!”

“So if you don’t know it by now, chances are you aren’t going to.”

Yuuri pressed his eyes shut - it wasn’t the kind of encouragement he wanted to hear; he wasn’t sure he did know it, wasn’t sure he would pass this exam, wasn’t sure his scholarship would be renewed, and his study visa rejected, and-

“Come on, you know it’ll be fun…”

Yuuri’s teeth bit down on his lip, scrunching his eyes shut tighter. His sneakers squeaked to a stop, already internally groaning at his decision.

He was a weak man...

“Fine!” he snapped, caving. “Just one beer...”

 

* * *

That one beer was nearly trickling down his legs as his back hit the bathroom wall with a slap, nearly dropping the candle in his hand and barely feeling the hot wax that splashed on his skin. His lips still parted around a blood curdling scream that echoed back at him in the small bathroom, eyes staring - wide and terrified - at the mirror over the sink.

And a pair of bright blue eyes – framed in blood dripping lashes – stared back at him.

_ Blood… _

There was so much blood.

Fresh, flowing blood that ran down the pearlescent face in the mirror in crimson rivers, dripped from their eyelashes, and carved a path down a slender, delicate neckline. A single stormy blue eye like the crashing waves of the sea stared out from the face - the other hidden by a swathe of blood matted bangs, that dripped and dripped and-

Yuuri thought he was going to throw up, stomach flipping in his belly and feeling faint with panic.

_ It wasn’t real _ , Yuuri desperately told himself, even the voice in his head a barely audible whisper, fingernails clawing at the bathroom tiles behind him in terror. It couldn’t be real! It was a projection, or stunt double, or fake mirror, or-

Yuuri knew they weren’t true.

There was nothing in the bathroom for a projection.

On the other side of the wall was a three floor drop to the street outside.

Where the mirror ended above the sink, so did the body, glaring and bloodied as red poured down the figure’s white shirt so real it was like it would keep running into the sink itself.

It couldn’t be real, Yuuri told himself again, feeling tears sting in the corner of his eyes and his knees buckle beneath him … but if it wasn’t real, then Yuuri didn’t know what it was.

_ Don’t kill me, _ he wanted to say - beg, scream cry - anything! That one stormy eye - real or not - was enough to strike terror in him, dark with anger that couldn’t be put into words and vicious with intent that… well, Yuuri knew the legend. Chant, ghost, blood… Yuuri knew the part that always came next - the body.

_ His body _ .

A sob babbled out of his lips.

He couldn’t look away from the blood, and the face staring out at him, beautifully murderous and terrifying enough for him to forget his dignity and just cry.

He didn’t want to die - he was barely into his twenties! He was in school, working a part time job, skating at the local rink and trying desperately to cling to the lingering remains of his future as a competitive skater. He couldn’t die! Not now, not like that while his family was half a world away and Yuuri was stuck in some stupid dare. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair-

Then suddenly, that one blue eye flashed wide.

And it  _ saw  _ Yuuri.

Yuuri wasn’t sure what he expected – for a limbs to climb out of the mirror, for bloody hands to grab him from behind, for pain to spark as  _ something  _ hurt him as the legend said…

Crystal blue washed over angry sea green, the boy’s eyes blowing wide and lips parting around a shocked gasp that Yuuri didn’t hear. White teeth flashed from a mouth otherwise drenched in red… and then Yuuri wasn’t the only one screaming.

It jolted Yuuri into silence.

Wild and anguished cries screamed from the mirror, hands reaching up to twist in his short hair and fingers smearing at the blood swathed over his cheeks – like he was in pain. Like it hurt. The boy’s eye flashed wide with terror, blood underneath it paling as tears mingled and carved pink tracks down his face. When his hands pulled back from his cheeks, crimson fingers stared back up at him.

And the screaming got worse.

Yuuri didn’t dare breathe. His eyes were so wide it hurt, heart pounding so hard he wondered if he was having a heart attack. Maybe he was. Maybe that’s how they killed him.

But the ghost… why was he screaming?

_ What was happening? _

_ The door _ , Yuuri suddenly remembered, heart leaping in his chest.  _ The door, the door  _ \- he needed to get out, he needed to escape-

He dove for the handle.

The candle nearly slipped right out of his grasp as he attacked the door, yanking the handle down over and over again … it rattled helplessly, door thudding dully in the frame.

It didn’t budge.

Lock or jam - Yuuri didn’t have time to care before he rammed his shoulder against it desperately, convinced that breaking down worked just as well to get him away from that... _ thing _ screaming in the mirror. He had to get out. He had to get back to his friends. He had to get away.

“Ah!”

Something twanged in his shoulder, white hot pain searing down his arm and stabbing at his joint. The candle fell, glass case shattering with a crash.

Yuuri whipped round, terrified.

_ It  _ would have heard that.

His back slapped against the door with a thump, breaths jolting in and out of his lungs so hard his ribs hurt.

The candle was still alight – by some miracle – light barely glowing on the floor as the flame flickered dangerously. Yuuri grabbed for it in a heartbeat, knees clicking as they jolted straight again.

The flame shook with the trembling of his hand but Yuuri prayed to whatever god above was listening that it wouldn’t go out. Darkness was terrifying. Shadows leapt out at him from the corners of the bathroom, creeping in the edges of his vision like long, clawed fingers reaching out for him through the darkness. The tiny light barely kept them at bay. Every jagged breath sent the flame dancing, had the shadows reaching ever closer...

Then Yuuri forgot how to breathe entirely when his eyes lifted.

The mirror was empty.

The boy was gone. The blood was gone. All that was left was the smudged reflection of the bathroom tiles across the room, Yuuri’s fingerprint marks from where he’d rubbed the steam away in the morning spoiling the image.

Air slipped out of his lungs, shaky and whimpering. What did that mean? There was no trace of the face Yuuri had seen, not a thing left. Had it been a dream? A joke?

Maybe it hadn’t been real after all…

A thud behind the door made him jump, wood jolting against his back with three firm thumps. Yuuri’s heart leapt into his mouth, hand flying to his racing heart.

“Yuuri?”

_ Phichit _ , Yuuri recognised with a sigh of relief. His eyes flittered, itching to flutter closed… he wasn’t brave enough yet though, eyeing the mirror like the second he looked away something would leapt out at him from the glossy depths.

The door thumped behind him again.

“Yuuri, are you okay?”

Yuuri sucked in another shaky breath, using all of his control to hold it in his lungs for just a few seconds before it wheezed back out again. He had to hold on. He couldn’t freak out.

“Y-yeah,” he finally stammered, voice trembling. “I think I’m okay. C-could you unlock the door?” He didn’t dare squeeze a please on the end of it. He wasn’t sure his voice would hold steady for that long.

There was a pause.

“We didn’t lock it…”

Yuuri’s heart stopped. He felt the blood drain from his face, eyes widening… but the mirror stayed empty. There was nothing there.  _ Nothing. _

This time, his voice squeaked. “Y-you didn’t?”

Shivers washed down Yuuri’s spine, hand twisting behind him to try the handle one more time. He didn’t dare turn his back on the mirror. He wasn’t brave enough. His fingers closed around the slim metal handle, pulling down slowly and carefully –  _ deliberately _ , so he’d be able to feel when the lock clicked free and he’d know his imagination had just ran wild, panic getting the better of him.

Nothing clicked though – just the lock, holding fast.

It was locked from the inside, Yuuri realised with a jolt, breath shuddering over the thin candle flame. Like all bathrooms were.

And Yuuri hadn’t locked it.

So who had?

 

* * *

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not when he got out of the bathroom and was nibbling on pizza with the boys. Not when they watched a movie. Not when they went to sleep in the early hours of the morning. He dreamed of blood stained hair and blown wide blue eyes, stark with fear. That scream echoed in his ears, whistling him awake a few hours later to sunlight streaming through the blinds and empty bed sheets strewn around him. 

He could hear the boys in the kitchen down the hall the more he blinked himself awake, heard groans and laughter - depending on how much beer everyone had had the night before. Yuuri just pushed himself onto his elbows, mind still lingering in his dreams. 

His eyes wandered over to the bathroom, staring at the closed door. It looked so innocent in the daylight. Had it all been a dream? Had it not been real at all?

Maybe he was going mad…

It wouldn’t be surprising. All the cramming he’d been doing, how little sleep he’d been getting lately alongside his terrible eating habits… hallucinations probably weren’t totally crazy for what he was doing to himself.

But it hadn’t  _ felt  _ like a hallucination. 

It had felt real. So, so real - like Yuuri could have reached out and touched the boy if he’d dared, so human looking, so  _ right there… _

He was pushing himself up before he knew it, heart racing in his chest and hand shaking as it reached out for the door handle. What was he doing? His skin felt cold under his flannel pyjamas as his fingers hovered a heartbeat away from the handle, waiting, bracing himself like the moment he opened the door, Hell itself would be unleashed upon him. He took a deep breath, fingers snatching around the handle fast and sudden and-

_ -nothing. _

The bathroom was empty.

Save for the candle abandoned on the sink ledge from the night before, the bathroom looked the same as it always did. Make up strewn around, an empty contact lens case, a toothbrush propped up in the shower instead of in the cup at the sink… there was no blood. No boy in the mirror. Everything was as it always was, deceptively simple, innocent.

Something about it still made a lump catch in Yuuri’s throat though. Had he really gone mad? He had to know…

His eyes blinked fast to keep them clear as he picked up the box of matches from the side and lit the candle, not taking his eyes off the mirror for an instant. He didn’t want to miss anything. Phichit and the boys didn’t know he was in here. If it had been them, nothing would happen. If Yuuri was careful and spotted any pre-set up tricks, nothing would happen. If he had been hallucinating from his lack of sleep, nothing would happen.

But if something  _ did  _ happen....

He let out a shuddering breath as he reached over to shut the door, flicking off the light as his arm drew back.

The room plunged into darkness.

Yuuri sucked in a deep breath, slow and shuddering, watching his candlelit reflection stare back at him in the mirror… then he closed his eyes.

“Bloody Mary, bloody Mary…”

Yuuri held his breath.

“Bloody Mary.”

He opened his eyes.

And piercing blue ones stared back in the reflection.

He didn’t scream – he almost did, but the sound choked in his throat, nothing more than a squeak actually passing his lips before he clamped them shut, stumbling back a step like he had done the night before. Something clattered to the floor - shampoo or something - but Yuuri didn’t look down. He was too drawn to the mirror.

It was the same boy as before.

Only bloodless.

Yuuri slowly pushed out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, feeling his heart run wild in his chest but just about clinging to his senses, to his  _ control.  _ He couldn’t freak out. He couldn’t freak out. He couldn’t freak-

The boy’s eyes widened in the mirror. “You.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched all over again.

It was bad enough if he was seeing things. If he was  _ hearing  _  things too, then he really must be going crazy. Nut-house kind of crazy. On meds for life, kind of crazy...

His mouth dropped open, bobbing for a few minutes before he finally remembered his voice. What was he going to do? Scream? Shout? Beg? Pray? Call for his friends and for help to save him from his own apparition or - 

“H-hi.”

Oh God, he really was going crazy...

The boy in the mirror just stared at him, mouth hanging open in shock. “ _ Hi _ ?!” 

It was stupid, Yuuri knew. Here he was saying hi to a ghost and even the  _ ghost _ looked at him like he was crazy. He really must be losing his mind.

Yuuri didn’t know what to do. He stood there gormlessly in his pyjamas in a darkened bathroom, staring at a reflection that wasn’t his and was staring right back, moving and talking, and-

_ Smiling.  _

A grin slowly cracked over the boy’s pale face, warm and soft. “Hi,” he giggled back, sound soft and beautiful like the delicate flowing waters of a woodland stream.

Yuuri flickered one back, feeling his heart lurch.

He was seeing things, hearing things… and now he was  _ crushing  _ on things. He really was looking at a one way ticket to the nuthouse… 

Not covered in blood though, the boy was strangle attractive. Platinum blonde hair that fell swooping over one of his stark blue eyes, pale skin that looked almost radiant like it was pure moonlight, young like he was maybe just a few years older than Yuuri, his features soft, yet mature … and oh God, he had an  _ accent _ . Yuuri hadn’t noticed it before. But now, he noticed  _ everything. _

A pale hand reached up in the mirror, waving softly next to the boy’s face. “I’m Victor,” he smiled, accent strong around the  _ v  _ in his name _. _

Yuuri swore his heart had stopped beating. 

Maybe this was how the curse killed you instead of ripping out your soul - slaying you with heart failure by an unfairly gorgeous ghost that looked and sounded just  _ beautiful. _ Yuuri almost didn’t mind. It would be a good death.

His fingers felt numb as he waved back, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Y-Yuuri.”

Victor just smiled wider.

He really was perfect, Yuuri thought to himself, feeling all the blood rush to his head and his cheeks darken traitorously. It wasn’t fair. Ghosts were supposed to be scary, terrifying - like Victor had been last night, lathered in blood. Where had it gone anyway?

“Um, what happened to the… why is there no, um…” Yuuri was almost too afraid to ask, certainly too afraid to ask outright. His finger circled around his face instead, hoping Victor got the message.

For a moment, he just frowned.

Then his bright eyes light up. “Oh – you mean the blood?”

Yuuri nodded.

“That only happens the first time,” Victor said dismissively, waving a hand that disappeared at the edge of the mirror. “You know, to scare people. I’m not normally like that,” he laughed, eyes sparkling.  _ Laughed! _

Yuuri’s mind was well and truly fried. 

“O-okay…” he stammered, blinking hard to stop the sudden lightheadedness from getting too strong. He couldn’t believe this was happening. “And what… what  _ are  _ you?”

“I haunt this mirror.”

Yuuri blinked. Victor had said it so …  _ casually _ . Like it was nothing. Like it was an everyday thing to say… 

“So you’re a ghost?”

_ Right? _

Victor nodded. “Yes.”

“So you … died?”

Something twitched in Victor’s face, lips pressed together tightly and bright blue eyes steeling over a touch. “Yes.” 

Even his tone was clipped.

Yuuri hadn’t meant to ask it so bluntly - but in his defence, he’d never exactly thought about the proper social etiquette for talking to  _ freakin’ ghosts! _

“Why?” he just gasped, chest tight. “Why the mirror?” 

_ Why him? _ , he resisted the urge to ask.

“I’m the only one who’s died in this house,” Victor blinked, his long eyelashes fluttering like the beat of a butterfly’s wing against his cheeks. “So it had to be me.”

Yuuri choked on air.

Whatever he might have said next was pushed right out of his head, his blood running cold and his spine crawling, fingers going numb around the candle. He put it down in the sink before he dropped it, the light shifting over Victor’s features ever so slightly.

Victor had died… in that house. Their house. The house they lived in, slept in, laughed and cried in… and Victor had  _ died  _ in it.

_ How? _ , Yuuri wanted to ask.  _ When?  _ Nobody had told them about a death in the place when they’d agreed to rent it. Victor didn’t look a million miles old either, his clothes mostly hidden from view but the simple white neckline dancing around his collarbones like a normal t-shirt. Not an ancient ruffle. Not an old school quiff in his hair. Not a powdered wig or fancy period jacket. Victor had died  _ recently,  _ in the modern era _. _

“She took me,” he went on when Yuuri just stared. “Bloody Mary. She made me haunt the mirror for her to steal the souls that summon her… like I did.”

Yuuri’s blood ran cold.

Victor had done the dare too.

The thought made Yuuri’s gut lurch, throat going tight. Victor had done the Bloody Mary challenge … and now he was dead...

“Is that what you’re going to do to me?” he breathed, eyes wide.

He didn’t want to die. He was sure Victor hadn’t wanted to either, but he  _ really  _ didn’t want to die. He couldn’t. He was too young, younger than Victor - how could Victor kill him after  _ talking  _ to him? It wouldn’t be fair-

“No,” Victor said almost dismissively, waving a hand in the air. “You didn’t look over your shoulder. You only get dragged in when you try to see us behind you outside of the mirror.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched.

He’d never heard that one before. He’d thought that as soon as you saw her in the mirror, you were done for. He hadn’t realised there were rules, conditions. 

Victor must have done that, he realised with a guilty feeling in his stomach. He was spared… but Victor had looked. Yuuri could just imagine the way his silver hair would have whipped over his shoulder, his bright blue eyes glowing sharp through the darkness as he looked behind him to see-

“And were you?” he croaked, voice far less steady than he was proud of. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Behind me?”

The hairs on the back of his neck tingled at the mere thought of it.

Victor just smiled though. 

“No,” he said, a little stiff. “I’m just in the mirror.”

“Can’t you get out?”

Yuuri wished someone would tape his mouth shut. All these questions, sensitive and impersonal - although asking them might help him understand why he was alive, why he wasn’t cursed like Victor. And how he could keep it that way.

It still wasn’t nice to ask though.

Something pained flittered through Victor’s gaze, something hard yet glittering at the same time. Yuuri found it hard to read, hard to put a name to.

“Not until someone can take my place,” Victor said slowly, holding Yuuri’s eye. “Not until someone else dies.”

 

* * *

Yuuri stared at the computer screen in the library, his word document just as blank as it had been an hour ago. Those revision notes were never going to get tidied up at this rate, his cheek propped up by his fist, eyes glazed over, and his mind…if he was honest, it wasn’t chemistry he was thinking about. 

It was Victor.

He’d seemed so normal when they’d talked that morning - so nice. It was hard to believe someone as nice as that dragged people into a mirror and killed them.

_ No,  _ Yuuri quickly corrected himself. Victor didn’t do that. That was  _ why _ he was still stuck in the mirror, because he hadn’t killed anyone else to take his place. Victor hadn’t killed anybody - including Yuuri. Even though it would free him. It said a lot about him, Yuuri thought.

Those sad blue eyes had haunted him ever since he’d left the house. So broken, so lonely - even when he plastered a smile on his face it never quite reached Victor’s eyes, Yuuri noticed in hindsight. There was something plastic about the way he smiled, something that had stiffened the longer they’d talked. Yuuri wondered when the last time Victor had  _ talked _ to someone had been. Had he  _ ever  _ talked to anybody since he’d been taken?

There was so much he didn’t know about him. So much he wanted to know, but was frightened to ask. How did you ask someone about how they died anyways?

Before he knew it, he was opening Google.

He wasn’t sure what to search for. 

He didn’t know Victor’s surname, when he died, how he died, under what circumstances… he didn’t know anything about him other than the fact he was in Yuuri’s mirror and he had the most beautiful blue eyes Yuuri had ever seen. His Russian accent was little help.

Yuuri tried for half an hour to find something - anything. He just wanted to know, and he didn’t want to have to ask Victor. He wasn’t sure he could look the boy in the eye and ask how he’d been killed, know what he’d been spared from by mere luck and nothing else while Victor had been left to rot as a consequence. He scrolled through endless articles, read things about the local neighbourhood that made him question  _ why _ he’d ever moved there in the first place with such a crime history, when finally- 

**_‘Russian student found dead in Dove Lane’_ **

Yuuri’s breath hitched. 

He clicked on the link, heart in his mouth as the page loaded and the picture box slowly filled, line by painfully slow line. 

Until unmistakable blue eyes were staring back at him.

_ Victor. _

He smiled out at Yuuri from the picture, looking young and free. His smile was different in the photo - his whole face smiled with him; eyes crinkling in the corners and cheeks bunching up high, one side slightly lopsided with how broadly he grinned, but it didn’t matter because it was beautiful. Yuuri had never seen Victor’s eyes really sparkle like that from the mirror. He looked… happy.  

Yuuri’s tongue darted out to wet his dry lips, a lump lodged in his throat. He knew he didn’t really want to read what happened to that beautiful smile… but a part of him just had to know.

He read.

_ ‘In what is believed to have been a burglary gone wrong, the body of Russian exchange student 21 year old Victor Nikiforov was discovered on Friday in his home on Dove Lane. _

_ Concerns were raised for the student when he failed to show up for his week’s classes and the police were called when friends were unable to reach him on his phone. It is suspected that Nikiforov had been dead for at least a number of days before he was found. _

_ Tributes have been pouring in for the victim, who has been described as a dedicated student. _

_ “He was a delight to teach,” one of his former teachers at Stammi Vicino University told us. “An extremely pleasant young man. He was the pride of this school.” _

_ The cause of death has not been released but reports of forced entry to the property indicates a suspected burglary which Nikiforov seemingly interrupted when he came home unexpectedly to the perpetrators. He was beaten to death. No murder weapon has yet been discovered on the property.  _

_ “He was barely recognisable,” one of Mr Nikiforov’s close friends said. “They brought me in to identify the body, but… god, nobody deserves to die like that. Especially not him. Not Victor.” _

_ An autopsy is scheduled for Wednesday.  _

_ No arrests have so far been made in connection to the death. _

_ Local police have declined to comment.’ _

Yuuri blinked, his pulse thumping hard in his ears. 

Victor had been … beaten to death. He’d just come home at the wrong time and gotten beaten to death. 

It sounded horrific.

He scrolled up, checking for the date of the article - and his breath caught at what he found.

It wasn’t even three years old.

It must have happened just before Yuuri had moved to America.

He felt sick.

Victor may not have been sucked through his mirror or found dead in his bathroom like Yuuri had expected to find reported… but he hadn’t expected that kind of death for the Russian either. It sounded worse. Yuuri couldn’t imagine how it must have felt for Victor, being bludgeoned over, and over, and over again until…there was nothing left of him alive, the life beaten out of him. 

Yuuri clapped a hand over his mouth, sucking in a sharp inhale of air. He tasted salt, his fingertips wet - was he… was he  _ crying? _

For the boy he knew in death and wished he’d known in life.

 

* * *

“I …. I found out what happened to you,” Yuuri said to the wick of the burning candle, eyes locked sadly on the flame. “I know I shouldn’t have. It was an invasion of privacy, I know, but…I’d just wanted to know.”

He didn’t know what had possessed him to do this - stood in the middle of his blackened bathroom with the steadily burning candle in his hands while Phichit was out at his pole dancing class… but there he was. He could feel Victor’s eyes on him from the mirror, steeled and unreadable. Yuuri couldn’t meet their gaze, too ashamed.

His cheeks burned in a way that had nothing to do with the lick of the flame so close to his face, fighting with the lump of guilt lodged in his throat. 

“I just,” his hands shook around the candle, clenched so tight his knuckles were white. His voice wobbled slightly. He cleared his throat quietly, took a breath, and tried again. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For what happened to you.”

Because he was.

He hadn’t known Victor when he’d been alive, but he was sure that nobody deserved to die like Victor had - just as Victor’s friend had said in the article. Least of all Victor. Least of all that smile.

Yuuri’s eyes flickered up, latching onto the lower frame of the mirror. He was too afraid to look higher. Out of the corner of his eye though, Yuuri caught Victor lips stretch in a thin, flat smile. 

His eyes stayed cold though.

“It’s okay, Yuuri,” Victor said calmly. Too calmly. It send shivers up Yuuri’s spine at the disassociation in Victor’s glassy eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Yuuri’s shoulders hunched further on instinct, squishing himself smaller against the shadows leaning in from the corners of the bathroom. His stomach felt jumpy, guilty. Even if it wasn’t his fault, he still felt bad for Victor.

“Did you want to ask me about it?”

Yuuri gasped, head jolting up. Something in his neck clicked. “What?”

He couldn’t have heard that right…

The pinched look to Victor’s expression told him he had though, feeling the blood drain from his face.

Victor’s head tilted. “I assume that’s why you’re telling me…”

_ No, no, no, n- _

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open, horrified. His head shook in a heartbeat, protests bubbling on his tongue while he tried to remember how words worked enough to voice them. That wasn’t why he’d brought it up. He’d just wanted to be honest. To be decent. He didn’t want to know…

...did he?

He caught himself just before the first word left his mouth.

Maybe… maybe he did ...

He closed his mouth slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat. He couldn’t look Victor in the eye, gaze shifting ever so slightly to look at his neat silver eyebrows instead.

“Did it hurt?” he finally asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t want to know… and yet he did. He craved it. Something inside him burned to know more - to know everything. How many other people got this chance? To ask about death? To find out how dying felt like? To know what happens before that final fateful day? It was the greatest human weakness, to fear the one thing that was so inevitable, so inescapable.

He had to know.

Something chipped in Victor’s eyes, the glassy blue shattering into something Yuuri didn’t want to put a name to.

Slowly, Victor nodded.

Yuuri caught the bob of Victor’s adam’s apple in the mirror, his throat tight, tense muscles standing out. If he could see the Russian’s fists further down the mirror, he’d bet they were clenched tight.

“Her name was Mary Worth,” he finally said, accent bitterly strong - so much so that Yuuri had to hang on every syllable to understand. 

At first, he didn’t understand.

Then, he did.

His frown smoothed out in understanding, cold fear creeping down his spine instead and breaths picking up ever so slightly.

Mary Worth was Bloody Mary. The truth behind the legend.

“She killed beautiful children to stay young. Stole their youth, their life, their love…” Something glittering flashed in Victor’s eyes that made Yuuri’s heart crack - until Victor pressed them shut. Slowly. Deliberately. Like that one simple movement hurt more than words could ever say. “They caught her, of course,” he finally breathed out after a moment. “In the end. Burned her at the stake like all witches were back then.”

Yuuri watched Victor’s chest rise and fall slightly heavier than before, taking deep breaths like he was trying to stay calm. Did ghosts even need to breathe?

He wasn’t sure.

“But chant her name into a mirror and she’ll appear over your shoulder in the reflection, covered in blood. If you turned around, she’ll drag you away. She steals your soul, tears you to shreds, and traps you in the mirror for eternity. There’s no way out. There’s no escape from her. She takes everything...”

Victor flinched in the mirror, face jerking to the side like someone had slapped him. He didn’t move back, hauling a deep lungful of air.

When his eyes opened again, Yuuri swore they were wetter than before.

“She makes you wish that you were dead.”

Yuuri didn’t want to know what he meant.

He’d never heard the story behind the dare, never knew Mary Worth was real… he guessed Victor knew because Victor had seen her. When he did the dare, when he’d died and she stole his soul, he must have seen her - maybe even  _ spoken  _ to her - seen what she’d become after years of being trapped and twisted behind the mirror’s shield.

Yuuri didn’t want that to happen to him. He desperately didn’t want it to happen to him.

“Is she going to kill me like that too?” he rasped, eyes wide.

His hands were trembling again.

He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die fast nor slowly, bludgeoned nor shot - he wanted to  _ live.  _ He desperately wanted to live. Everything was in sharp focus since he’d met Victor, perspective of his life rearranged. His anxiety may tell him things, might make him do things he regretted - but nothing could overwhelm his instinct to stay alive when death was staring him right in the face, telling him what it was like. The primal drive to stay alive was just too strong.

Victor’s lips twitched again, thin smile stretching. 

“No,” he said quietly, eyes softening. The once stark tendon standing out from his neck slowly melted back into his skin. “You didn’t turn around.”

Yuuri let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. 

He knew Victor had told him before, but he didn’t mind hearing it again, hearing he was safe. That he was going to stay safe. His shoulders sagged in relief, his sigh making the candle flicker with his breath.

“S-so how does it work?” he asked when he found his voice again. Even if he was staying alive, Victor was still trapped. “Are you in every mirror?”

Victor shook his head.

“No, but any mirror. A mirror, a flame, and the curse… I’ll always be there.”

Because as Victor had said, there was no escape.

 

* * *

Yuuri breathing hard. Breaths rasped in his lungs, air barely scraping over his insides before it was whipped away again. It hurt. It burned in his chest, lungs tight, and head dizzy, brain fogging up and barely able to think…

His hands were numb as they slammed into the door to the boy’s bathroom, Yuuri falling shoulder first into a stall and heaving his breakfast into the basin the second his knees hit the floor.

His chest hurt more.

He dragged his knees closer underneath him, curling in on himself over the toilet bowl. His mouth tasted of vomit, the smell rising up and turning his stomach all over again.

He clapped a hand over his mouth, still breathing way too fast.

He had to calm down. 

His exam was in less than an hour and if he didn’t sit it, he’d wasted his whole academic year for nothing. All his parents money, all that hard work - everything! All gone.

_ Gone… gone… _

The word echoed in Yuuri’s mind mockingly, pressing his eyes shut. They burned too, filling with tears he desperately didn’t want to let fall.

Once they did, it would all be over.

He needed to stop. He needed to calm down. He needed to  _ breathe… _

He hadn’t noticed his backpack slip off his shoulder when he’d stumbled into the stall, but he remembered it again as his knee jerked out on reflex and his foot slammed into it. The books inside thudded softly in protest.

And something clinked.

So gentle, Yuuri had barely heard it. But he had, and it made him catch his next breath a fraction longer than he had the one before it. 

He remembered he’d brought something else to school that day.

His hands were shaking so hard they could barely get a grip as he twisted round and hauled the backpack closer, fingers fumbling at the zip. It took four tries to open it, back pressed against the wall of the stall. He couldn’t see - his eyes were too blurred with tears - but he could feel, slapping clumsily around inside the bag for the things he needed.

If he’d thought the zip was hard though, the lighter was worse.

It felt like he was clicking for a lifetime before the flame finally caught and he pressed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure if it would work with the rest of the lights on… but he prayed it would.

“Blo-ody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody -  _ hic! _ \- Mary.”

Yuuri opened his eyes, blinking furiously to clear his vision.

And it wasn’t his own red, blotchy face staring back at him in the trembling compact mirror he held.

_ Victor. _

The Russian squinted from inside the tiny mirror, peeking out from behind an arm thrown over his face and his silver bangs catching the bright light of the bathroom like glitter. Yuuri could hardly believe his eyes, sitting up a little straighter against the wall.

“V-Vict-or?”

He was so glad it had worked.

Victor peeked over his forearm, eyes squinting so tight they were like electric blue slits. “Yuuri? What the...” 

He trailed off the moment he saw Yuuri though - and really  _ saw  _ him. The tears. The rasping breaths. The panicked eyes. Real fear flashed in the Russian’s gaze, arm snapping away from his face in a heartbeat. 

“Oh my God,” he breathed, leaning forward in the compact like he could get any close. “Yuuri, are you okay? Where are you?”

Yuuri sniffled.

“N-no, I’m-” he pressed his eyes shut, trying to breathe. “At school. M-my exam, I can’t-”

It all came back with the force of a freight truck. The pressure. The risk. The consequences should he fail again… the air got thinner all over again around him, breaths darting hard and fast down his throat. Yuuri’s eyes started to roll back in his skull, the lightheadedness creeping back until his head lolled back against the wall with a thud. He felt sick again.

“I-it’s okay, Yuuri,” Victor stammered from the compact, voice frantic. Yuuri had seen the panic in Victor’s eyes. He knew he was freaked out. “Just breathe. You’re okay.”

Honestly, Yuuri wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

Summoning a ghost to talk to in his moment of crisis instead of his family, his friends - his therapist, even! - but no, Yuuri had deliberately brought a compact and lighter to school so he could summon Victor. It wasn’t just instinct. It wasn’t just spur of the moment. He’d planned it. He shouldn’t be talking to Victor… but there he was, huddled in the bathroom with the Russian ghost trapped in his compact and he didn’t know what else to do.

A whimper slipped through his lips, breaths picking up.  _ Oh God, _ he thought panicking. It was getting worse. 

“You … you go to Stammi Vicino?”

Yuuri blinked at Victor’s voice, breath hitching.  

The Russian wasn’t looking at his face anymore though, but at his jacket - at the badge on the left chest. The school crest; a golden circle - _ a gold medal of excellence, _ they said - with ‘ _ Stammi Vicino’ _ written across it in glorious italic script. There was a glow in Victor’s eye that Yuuri couldn’t place.

He gulped hard, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Y-yeah.”

A warm smile spread over Victor’s lips. 

“I went there too.” 

Yuuri’s eyes popped wide in surprise - but then he caught himself and brought himself back to Earth, physically flinching at his own stupidity.  _ Of course,  _ he mentally scolded himself. He remembered reading it from the article. 

“Is the football team any better yet?” Victor chuckled, a spark glittering in his eyes. It was beautiful, his smile breathtaking-

Yuuri choked on a laugh.

“N-no,” he stammered, forcing a shaky grin back. “They al-always lose.”  _ It was true. _

Victor’s smile didn’t falter though. 

“And is Yakov still there?” he asked, smile widening impossibly, leaning in closer in the mirror. He looked… happy. It made the bands around Yuuri’s chest loosen ever so slightly. “Coach Feltsman? Has he gone bald yet?”

Yuuri slapped a hand over his mouth, smothering the giggle that had morphed into a hiccup at the wrong time.

“N-not yet.”

Victor just chuckled, head shaking softly. “I’m surprised he’s got any hair left after all the things I put him through...”

Yuuri tried to ignore the way his heartbeat picked up. Coach Feltman was with the sports team and if Victor had been close with Coach Feltsman then did it mean that Victor had been in the sports team? It made sense. Annoying sense. Of course someone as pretty as Victor would also be physically hot too…

In the compact, Victor ran his fingers through his hair. “I used to make his life hell. Never showed up to practise but was always cocky at the games, always showing off… he always said I was wasting my life, wasting my talent.” His smile dampened ever so slightly, the light dulling in his eyes. The hand in his hair paused at the back of his head. “I was never sure why he bothered with me so much…”

Yuuri had never met Coach Feltsman, never seen Victor play… but he knew why in a heartbeat regardless. It was easy.

“You’re worth it,” he breathed, words sighing naturally out of his lungs.

Saying them felt easier than breathing.

And when Victor’s eyes flickered up to him again, sparkle back in his crystal blue gaze, Yuuri felt his heart skip a traitorous beat.

Victor smiled. 

“Thanks, Yuuri,” he said, voice so soft Yuuri barely heard him. His smile faltered a beat later though, his brow dipping. “Are you okay though?”

Yuuri inhaled sharply …

… but it didn’t tumble straight back out his lungs like he’d expected. Instead, his chest was relaxed. Sore, but relaxed - not the tense wall of unrelenting ribs that had been suffocating him a few moments before, weighing his breaths down until they’d been choking him. Now, the air slipped slow - albeit, shakily - back out his lips, measured and controlled. He could breathe. He could think. 

“Y-yeah, I…” he swallowed the lump in his throat, still shocked. “I just got a bit anxious that’s all. I’m fine now. I’m fine… I’m sorry…”

He wasn’t used to being fine.

Even Phichit struggled to calm him down sometimes, Yuuri so locked in his own head at times that even his best friend couldn’t bring him out again. But Victor… someone he’d only known for one day could help him, just by  _ talking? _ Yuuri blinked dumbly, trying to wrap his head around it. It shouldn’t have been so easy… but with Victor, it was.

Victor’s eyes glowed out from the compact, soft and glowing, with his long eyelashes fluttering gracefully over his pale cheeks.

“Don’t be sorry, Yuuri,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re okay….” His mouth twitched in the corners, the shadow of a smile. It was still unfairly beautiful, something in Victor’s gaze sparking to life. “You’re worth it too.”

Yuuri’s breath caught.

His chest felt tight again - but for an entirely different reason this time.

“Good luck in your exam, Yuuri!” Victor’s smile widened. “I believe in you. You’re going to do amazing. Just take deep breaths and read every question twice before you even  _ think _ about actually answering it...”

 

* * *

Yuuri didn’t do amazing in the exam.

But he walked out still breathing steadily at the end of the alloted time instead of being escorted out for having a panic attack in the middle of it like he had done his high school entry exam. He’d done it. He’d done his best at least.

“Want to come over to Leo’s later?” Phichit asked when it was over, both of them picking out their bags from the exam room lockers. “We’re all going to celebrate.”

Yuuri blinked for a minute. 

He was still in a daze from the exam.

His hands paused on his backpack, fingers hesitating around the zip. He’d just thrown his pens and calculator inside his bag… but he could see the little compact mirror gleaming up at him from the bottom, reaching out to him.

_ Victor. _

“Sorry, I can’t,” he heard himself say. “I need to see a friend.”

 

* * *

“Come on,” Victor said when Yuuri finally got home, leaning forward eagerly in the compact mirror. “How did it go? Tell me everything.”

Yuuri giggled. 

It had taken longer to get home than he’d thought and he’d hadn’t been able to avoid his friends entirely after all. He’d stopped by Leo’s for a beer or two, but he hadn’t really enjoyed himself. He’d barely paid attention, barely touched his drink...all he’d been able to think about was seeing Victor again, seeing that bright sparkle to his eye and that wonderful smile that listed ever so slightly to the left…

It made Yuuri’s stomach do funny little flips to be seeing it again, his cheeks flushing a little warmer than he was proud of. He drew his legs a little closer to his chest as he sat back against his headboard, compact mirror propped on top of his knees.

“Did you study chemistry too?” he asked, biting his lip awkwardly. Because surely nobody could be  _ that  _ interested in his exam unless they’d studied for it too…

Victor just scrunched a face though.

“God, no!” he blurted shamelessly, bypassing any brain to mouth filter entirely and expression twisting in disgust like Yuuri had just spat at him. Yuuri didn’t mind. Science did that to a lot of people. “No, I hated chemistry...” 

Yuuri just nodded, heart thumping a little harder in his chest.

_ Victor hated chemistry. _

Yuuri repeated it silently to himself in his head, every word hammering home with clear precision like a nail in his coffin.  _ Victor. Hated. Chemistry -  _ so he wouldn’t want to talk about it, right? Yuuri swallowed his disappointment, pressing his lips together and forcing them to stay upturned in the corners. It felt stiff on his face, wrong.

Then Victor leaned forward in the mirror again, chin propped up in his fist and eyes positively glowing. “But tell me anyway,” he said. “I want to know how you did.” 

Yuuri gasped.

It never failed to amaze him how easily Victor took his breath away…

The smile breathed back to life on his face, relaxed and natural…  _ excited _ . He couldn’t deny the way it bubbled up inside him, how the enthusiasm in Victor’s eye made his heart swell in his chest until he could barely breathe. Victor did that to him. His smile, his attention, his  _ care _ did that to him.

Yuuri could barely keep his voice steady, beaming so wide his cheeks hurt. “W-well…”

He told Victor everything. 

The equation he thought he’d screwed up in question five; the essay question that he’d just written and written until he could barely keep track of the point he had been supposed to be writing about, but had kept writing anyway; even the way he’d questioned if his name was really spelt with one ‘u’ or two at the start from how nervous he’d been! Victor listened to everything quietly, attentively, blinking silently as Yuuri rambled.

He didn’t look bored even once.

Yuuri felt significantly lighter after he’d finally finished gushing his heart out, not noticing how the light had fallen to a slither of moonlight through his blinds while he’d talked or the way the candle on his bedside table was nearly down to the end of its wick. He’d lost track of time. Nothing else mattered beyond the boy in the compact mirror.

Certainly not the sound of the front door shutting...

“Yuuri?” 

It took everything in Yuuri not to jump, heart leaping into his mouth and skipping a guilty beat in shock. He hadn’t heard Phichit come home - not until he was stood in Yuuri’s doorway.

He was clearly drunk. He was leaning heavily on the doorframe, eyes hazy and unfocused, and  clothes a little rumpled. He’d obviously had a better time at Leo’s than Yuuri had - a hickey glowed on the side of his neck, red and telling. Yuuri vaguely wondered who it had been…

… but that could wait until after Phichit stopped staring at him.

Yuuri tried not to look too guilty. 

“Hm?” he blinked.

He didn’t trust his voice for anything more than that.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Phichit… but what rational way was there to tell your best friend that you could see ghosts? It was stupid. His face felt hot just thinking about it. He couldn’t tell Phichit. He’d never believe him. The only way to get him to believe him was to show him, and if Phichit saw Victor and looked over his shoulder in shock then Yuuri might accidentally get his best friend killed, and he just couldn’t-

Phichit scanned around the room, eyes a little glassy from the alcohol. He frowned. “I thought I heard you talking to someone...”

Yuuri’s breath caught.

He hoped Phichit didn’t notice.

“N-no, just…” 

_ What could he say?!  _

Because Yuuri had definitely been talking, still had the compact in his hand, lying in bed when he should have been  _ seeing his friend  _ as he’d told Phichit he’d be doing … he didn’t miss the flash of hurt that darted across his best friend’s face.

But he couldn’t tell the truth either.

The silence stretched on.

“It’s just me,” Yuuri finally said, eyes dropping and cheeks glowing hot under the lie. He didn’t like lying to Phichit. He didn’t like lying at all.

But he had to…

“Oh… okay…”

Yuuri tried not to wince - but it was hard. The sadness and disappointment in Phichit’s voice was painfully clear. Yuuri had done that to him. His stomach twisted with guilt, shoulders hunching in shame. 

Phichit staggered back a step in the doorway, hand hooking on the doorframe to steady himself. The hurt look that had flashed in his eyes disappeared as fast as it had come, shaking his head clear. He blinked slowly, centering himself again. He still looked unsteady though, swaying slightly where he stood. 

He sighed loudly.

“Just…” Phichit pressed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Remember to blow that candle out before you sleep, m’kay?”

Yuuri froze.

The candle that Yuuri had used to summon Victor, he knew Phichit had noticed, lit innocently on his bedside table.

It was a good thing that Phichit wasn’t looking up - Yuuri felt white-faced with relief as his best friend finally waddled out the room, mouth hanging open, and eyes traitorously wide in his wake. It wasn’t Yuuri’s fault. He didn’t like lying because he was notoriously bad at it. Guilt churned uncomfortably in his gut. He really was a terrible human being...

He still tipped the compact mirror back up to his face though as soon as his door was shut, eyes greedily searching for Victor’s bright blue gaze again.

Victor stared out at him, lips gracefully parted.

More guilt slammed into Yuuri. 

“Sorry,” he whispered as soon as he heard Phichit’s door shut down the hall. “I haven’t told him about …” his face flushed, unable to hold Victor’s eye. “...you know…”

_ Them. _

How could he?

He wasn’t sure what he expected Victor to say… but nothing hadn’t been it. He glanced up after too long a silence, heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t like it.

Victor just pressed a waxy smile back at him, stiff and plastic.

His eyes stayed frozen over.

“It’s fine, Yuuri,” Victor said slowly, voice barely louder than a whisper.  _ A wounded, betrayed whisper, _ Yuuri added silently to himself. “I understand.”

Those short, dull words hit him harder than he’d thought they would.

His breath caught, lungs tighter than he’d remembered them to be - even more than when he’d felt guilty about Phichit. Phichit still had a life, still had friends, but Victor… Victor had nothing. 

Just Yuuri.

And he was Yuuri’s dirty little secret. No wonder he was upset. Yuuri didn’t blame him, the compact mirror drooping in his grip. 

He was making a real mess of everything. 

“I-I guess it is late,” he finally mumbled after a beat, feeling the tiredness start to beat at the back of his eyeballs and sting. He hadn’t slept much lately - or was it tears threatening? He didn’t even want to entertain the thought, leaning over to the bedside table to pick up the lit candle Phichit had reminded him about. “I should probably-”

“Oh my God!” 

Victor gasped. 

Air whipped sharply through his lips, eyes popping wide over Yuuri’s shoulder and making Yuuri’s heart stop dead in his chest. What shocked a ghost? Nothing good, surely…

He resisted every temptation to look over his shoulder. 

Even when Victor jerked forward in the compact, close enough until all Yuuri could see was one blue eye and the bridge of Victor’s nose. 

“Is that  _ The Proposal _ ?!”

Yuuri frowned. 

Whatever he’d been expecting Victor to say, it hadn’t been  _ that _ . The air rushed out of his lungs in a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. 

He’d expected something bad. Another ghost. A shadow on the wall behind him. A portal to Hell - he didn’t rule anything out as impossible now after all the things Victor had told him. If ghosts were real, what else could be? 

Instead of a monstrosity though, Victor’s eyes were trained just left of over Yuuri’s shoulder to above his desk. 

The bookshelf. 

“Um…” Yuuri turned slowly, glancing up at the short row of DVDs on the edge of the shelf.  _ The Proposal  _ was right on the end, Sandra Bullock smirking down at him. “Yes?”

He didn’t have many DVD’s - just a few for when the power grid occasionally went down and took their Netflix down with it. Something to pass the time. Yuuri hadn’t watched it in ages. Phichit’s  _ The King and The Skater  _ always won as their movie of choice lately when they got blacked out. 

Victor slumped back in the mirror, sighing dramatically. “Oh my God, was it good? I wanted to see that  _ sooooo  _ badly when it was out.”

Yuuri just blinked.

Victor liked chic flicks… yeah, Yuuri could totally see that actually. He wasn’t even surprised. Victor was a diva and a gentleman. Rom-coms would totally be right up his street.

“Um...” 

Yuuri’s brain went to mush.

Victor’s eyes were sparkling again like the whole Phichit thing had never happened, bright and round like a puppy. Yuuri felt his heart beat faster in his chest, totally helpless to the boy in the mirror. And when Victor’s lips ghosted apart, Yuuri found himself drawn to them.

“I-I mean, I-”

_ What was he saying? _

Nothing good.

He was making a fool out of himself again, and for what? A crush on a dead boy. A dead, painfully beautiful boy who was still staring at him with those big blue eyes framed with the most angelic eyelashes Yuuri had ever seen. His stomach was in knots, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips.

There was no way Victor would even give him a second glance if he’d been still alive. He’d been with the other jocks, the popular kids, with the most handsome boys and cutest girls. He wouldn’t have even looked at Yuuri, let alone become his friend.

But Victor wasn’t alive anymore. 

Yuuri was all he had.

And Yuuri was selfish.

“Would you like to watch it?” he heard himself ask, hearing the words like someone else had coaxed his voice out for him. 

For a moment, his heart stopped, frozen with horror.  _ What the hell- _

Time seemed to stop.

Then Victor’s expression cracked in the mirror and a broad smile stretched over his face. His beam answered for him.

“I’d like that,” Victor said anyway, gaze glowing.

The air rushed out of Yuuri’s lungs but he didn’t care, breathing into the smile as his lips twitched back at Victor’s. Victor had said yes. In real world terms, it would almost be the equivalent of a date… 

Yuuri’s hands trembled a little as he brought the DVD down and slid it into his laptop, settling the compact mirror on his knee while he leaned back against the headboard.

It was only then that the wave of sadness hit him.

In the mirror, he couldn’t see Victor. He heard his gasps and reactions, but he couldn’t see his eyes pop or his beautiful lips part around a grin. He couldn’t glance over and examine his features in the low light of his bedroom as he would if Victor had really been beside him. He couldn’t slide his hand across the mattress until their fingers brushed, tangling chastely over his sheets.

This was the closest they could ever be. It was the most they would ever get to have of each other. 

Yuuri’s chest burned painfully with the sure knowledge that it wasn’t enough.

 

* * *

Yuuri didn’t need to go to college the next day … but he did anyway. He’d stayed up all night with Victor. Watching the movie. Talking. Laughing. When Phichit asked the next morning, Yuuri had just said he’d been talking on Discord, the familiar tug of guilt in his gut slightly lesser than it had been the night before. Phichit hadn’t questioned it. He’d just made a non-committal noise and went away.

Really, Yuuri knew he should have stayed home. He should have stayed with Phichit. His best friend was hungover, tired, miserable… but Yuuri had still left.

He couldn’t stay away from Victor.

This time though, there was no mirror. No darkness, no candle, no whispered curses into the unknown.

Yuuri stood in front of the college display case with a lump in his throat, heart heavy in his chest. Victor’s bright blue eyes and perfect smile beamed out at him from through the glass, happy, glittering… 

_ Alive. _

Yuuri’s jaw clenched, blinking fast. It wasn’t fair, he couldn’t help but think. Victor looked so good alive. His hair was windswept and stuck to his forehead haphazardly, cheeks flushed pink with exertion, and arms strapped around his teammates who looked so mediocre stood next to Victor, the diamond amongst rocks. Yuuri had walked past that display case a hundred times and had never stopped to look inside. He’d walked past Victor a hundred times and had never known it.

“It’s a good thing our team never win anything.”

Yuuri jumped at the voice, spinning round so fast his sneakers squeaked. His heart skipped a beat inside his chest, gasp slipping through his lips.

He only mildly relaxed when he saw it was Christophe. 

The senior was leaned back against the far wall of the corridor like he’d been there for hours, like he owned the place, comfortable in his spot. Yuuri knew he couldn’t have been there more than a few minutes. It was still unnerving how easily at home Christophe looked there.

Yuuri knew Christophe Giacometti. 

Everyone did - the senior from Switzerland who stood out with his dirty blonde hair and stained reputation that only served to make him more popular. Yuuri knew Phichit liked him. Everyone liked him…

He pushed off the wall with his shoulders, hands dug deep into his fancy coat pockets. He was a man of taste at least, as far as they rumours went.

He looked right past Yuuri as he approached, eyes on the memorial. Victor’s memorial. Something passed over his distant gaze that Yuuri couldn’t put a name too, dampening his usually sparkling eye.

“If they did, they might take this down,” he explained sadly before Yuuri could ask, pained pinch to his hazel eyes and nerve twitching in his jaw. “Like Victor had never existed…”

Yuuri didn’t know what to say.

He’d never spoken to Chris before - never even made eye contact! He wasn’t good with talking to people, especially people he didn’t know.

He didn’t say anything, just following the Swiss’s gaze back to the case, landing on a locker room photograph of Victor and his teammates before a game. Victor was posing with a pale faced brown haired boy, making kissey faces at the camera, and winking, and- 

-and Yuuri realised half a beat later that the brown haired boy was Chris.

Younger, before the bleach, before the goatee… Yuuri connected the dots, brain cells firing like fireworks.

“You knew him?” he wondered aloud.

A sad smile flickered over Christophe’s lips. “He was my best friend,” he said softly. “I was with him just a few hours before-”

The words caught.

A sharp wisp of air darted through Chris’s lips and he glanced down, shoulders tense and the tendon at the base of his neck standing out starkly. Like it physically hurt to say.

Yuuri could understand.

“-before it happened.” Chris finally forced out on an exhale, voice strained. Yuuri could hear how much it hurt. “He’d just dropped me off at the airport.”

Yuuri felt bad for him. How could he not? He couldn’t imagine how Chris must have felt, how he must still be feeling. Maybe they had shared the house too like Phichit and Yuuri had. The guilt must be harrowing, knowing that Victor had come late because of him. If he’d stayed home, maybe nobody would have tried breaking in. Maybe Chris felt like it should have been him instead …

“It was weird,” Christophe said, breaking the silence. A frown dipped into his brow. “Ever since we did that stupid Bloody Mary thing, Victor was never the same. Then three days later… he was dead.”

 

* * *

There was a nerve twitching in Yuuri’s system on his way back home, the autumn light drawing the darkness in quicker than usual. It couldn’t have been much later than 5pm but it felt like midnight.

Yuuri’s spine crawled.

He glanced over his shoulder after every corner, hands shaking as they dug deep into his jacket pockets, a chill shivering down his back that had nothing to do with the cold.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.

He needed to talk to Victor.

It was all he could think about as he ran the last couple of steps to his front door, hand trembling to fit the key into the lock, and jumping at the door slamming behind him. He ripped the gloves off his fingers, leaving them trailing on the floor behind him in his wake. He didn’t stop moving, making a beeline for the nearest bathroom and fumbling in his pocket for his lighter.

Every shadow out of the corner of his eye looked like a threat. Every dark wall had reaching fingers. Yuuri’s breaths came hard and fast as he sparked the lighter to life.

He thought he’d been ready to face that Victor was really dead.

He’d been wrong.

“BloodyMaryBloodyMaryBloodyMary-”

He spat the words out quick as lightning, eyes pinched shut against the darkness in the bathroom.

“Yuuri?” Victor’s voice cracked through Yuuri’s harsh breaths filling the silence after a beat. “Yuuri, what’s wrong-”

“Three days,” Yuuri cut off, voice frantic. His eyes snapped open, wide, and glittering, and - “It took three days for the curse to work?! Y-you never said-why didn’t you tell me?!”

Victor paled in the mirror.

That made Yuuri more frightened than anything.

“Yuuri, wait-”

“Am I still cursed?” Yuuri croaked, knees feeling weak beneath him. He stumbled forward and braced a hand on the rim of the sink, the other one only just clinging to the lighter to keep it lit. His fingers were shaking, casting trembling shadows around the bathroom. “Am I?! If it takes three days to-”

A thump from above cut him off.

Yuuri’s eyes jerked up, blood draining from his face.

It had come from his bedroom - why would someone be in  _ his _ bedroom when it wasn’t him? Phichit never went in there. He hadn’t even known Phichit had been home! The lights had all been out when he’d seen the house from the end of the street, the whole place dark, and silent, and-

“P-Phichit?” Yuuri called out, before he dared think on it too long. There had to be a reasonable explanation. There had to be. “Phichit, is that you?”

It had to be Phichit.

His best friend had come home instead of gone over to a friend’s like he’d said, and had the lights turned off because he had been having a nap, then had gone into Yuuri’s room to check if he was home when he’d heard Yuuri’s voice…

Yuuri wanted to believe it.

But no answer came.

His heart beat faster in his chest as he leaned out the bathroom door slowly, inching into the corridor and holding his breath with every new - empty! - centimetre of darkened hallway that met him.

“Yuuri-”

“Shh!” Yuuri hissed back at Victor with a wave of his hand. He didn’t dare look away from the corridor, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He took a step outside the bathroom, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. “H-hello?”

_ Silence _ .

Yuuri took another step forward, bathroom a couple of paces behind him.

Everything was quiet. Everything was still. Yuuri was starting to think he’d imagined the noise in his insomnia, or delusion that allowed him to see ghosts, or-

“Yuuri, stop!” Victor’s voice suddenly came from the bathroom, high pitched and panicked. “Yuuri-”

He didn’t need to finish.

Not before a tall man in a black balaclava slipped round the bottom of the staircase and came face to face with Yuuri.

Yuuri’s heart stopped.

A million things flittered through his mind in that moment. Where was Phichit? Who was this guy? Why was he here?

It all paled into nothing though when he spotted the bat in the man’s hand.

He yelped before he could stop himself.

And then everything exploded.

He ducked on instinct as the bat rushed up to greet him, glass smashing in his ear and raining down in his hair as it collided with the picture frame on the wall, shattering it in a heartbeat. Yuuri dropped the lighter, plunging them into darkness.

He didn’t stop to get his bearings – he ran.

Breaths rasped through his lungs as he clambered back down the corridor, hands fumbling along the dark walls, feeling for anything; a door, a window, something he could throw behind him and buy him some time-

His fingers closed around a doorframe and he hauled himself round, flinging the door shut behind him the second he was inside.

A second later, it burst back open again.

Yuuri cried out as the door slapped against the wall with a resounding crack that sounded loud enough to tear the door from its hinges, hands shooting up to protect his face. And his eyes – blinding light shone through from the doorway, beaming like a star. He couldn’t look at it, cowering back against the far wall and watching the man’s shadow advance closer across the shower curtain towards him-

“Stop.”

Yuuri sucked in a sharp breath, freezing.

He knew that voice.

_ Victor. _

It was quiet, deadly. Victor didn’t shout or scream. He didn’t need to - the moment he’d caught the burglar’s attention in the mirror,  _ they  _ were the one screaming.

Victor was covered in blood.

Yuuri only glimpsed for a second as the torch light hit the mirror – but a second was enough.

Head to toe in the mirror, Victor was dripping in crimson like the first time Yuuri had seen him with blood running off his eyelashes and eyes narrowed with hate, shadowed and stormy with malice. 

It was enough to terrify Yuuri - and Yuuri  _ knew  _ him! - let alone anyone else. He barely swallowed his own scream of terror, backed up against the corner of the bathroom.  

The torch clattered as it hit the tiled floor but it didn’t break, light still bouncing off the tiles on the walls in a dull, eerie glow. It bounced off Victor’s nose and brow bone, framing his deadly gaze with intent and sending shadows spilling over his blood drenched bangs. 

It made him look even more terrifying.

His eyes sharpened, narrowing. 

“ _ Get out. _ ”

It hissed from Victor’s lips enough to send shivers down Yuuri’s spine, the blood running cold in his veins.

The burglar must have felt it too.

He bolted.

Screams echoed around the house in his wake, fumbling back through the door that he’d so ruthlessly chased Yuuri through not moments ago. The hallway clattered and more glass smashed, Yuuri hearing the thuds as the man clambered wildly to get to the front door. He didn’t blame him, running like his life depended on it.

Yuuri glanced over to Victor, heart stopped in his chest - but the mirror was empty.

And there was another scream upstairs.

Yuuri slapped his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see, didn’t want to hear. He didn’t want to believe any of it was really happening. It didn’t happen in real life, not to people like him. 

He heard the clumsy thuds of someone running down the stairs, just as wild and panicked as the first man. Yuuri couldn’t block it out entirely.

He knew he was alone.

He could feel it - Victor was gone - in one of the mirrors upstairs, Yuuri would have bet, chasing out the second burglar in the same way he had the first. The bathroom felt colder than Yuuri had remembered it, hunched back against the wall and making himself as small as possible as he waited for his nightmare to end.

_ It had to end _ , he told himself, breaths catching hard and fast in his throat and eyes popping open in panic. The torch was still on, setting an eerie glow around the bathroom.

It wasn’t comforting.

As silence finally fell upon the house though - and Yuuri held his breath to make sure - it was still another second before he realised what had just happened: an armed burglary interrupted, the resident attacked… 

_ Where had he heard that story before? _

Yuuri felt sick.

He should be dead.

His eyes rolled back in his skull at the thought, his knees giving out beneath him just as his vision went black.   
  


* * *

 

 

Yuuri woke up on the bathroom floor, the cold tiles icy against his bare cheek. How long had he been there? Minutes? Hours? Longer? His stomach ached, both sick and hungry at the same time and he hissed as he slowly peeled his face off the floor, the sting of the cool air slapping against the raw, abused skin of his cheek.

Everything was dark.

Glass tinkled as he pushed himself up gingerly, raining down from his hair like little crystal droplets. It would have been pretty were it not for the sting. He could feel glass biting into his cheek, feel it underneath his palms as he sat himself upright, the blood making the tiles slippery. His head hurt, the side of his skull throbbing with pain.

He groaned hard, slumping against the wall and running a hand through his hair. He felt the lump on the side of his head and winced, gasping, eyes pinching shut...

Then he remembered.

_ Victor. _

Everything from the night before came back to him – the robbery, the interruption, Victor…  _ Victor _ ! He’d saved Yuuri’s life…

Yuuri’s body heaved, thrown forward from the wall with his gulping gasp of oxygen. His hands slapped down on the tiles, bloodied and scratched - and Yuuri didn’t care, wide eyes staring down through the darkness. 

His house had been attacked. 

_ He _ had been attacked.

Yuuri felt his stomach turn as each memory came back to him one by one; the fear and terror, the relief when he wasn’t alone, and then the utterly unthinkable horror when he’d realised  _ just how close _ he’d come to being bludgeoned to death by the intruders - just like Victor had. 

It was too big a coincidence to ignore.

Yuuri whimpered.

His hands trembled as they fumbled along the floor in the dark for his lighter. Where had he dropped it? He couldn’t remember. If not the lighter, then a match. A candle.  _ Something – _

His fingers bumped something hard and plastic.

The burglar’s torch.

Yuuri pinched his eyes shut, forcing his breaths to slow down. He couldn’t freak out now. He needed to hold it together, to speak to Victor…

His fingers closed around the torch, wincing at the sound it made dragging along the tiles as he pulled it closer. It was heavier than he’d expected. He clutched it tight to his chest as he stumbled to his feet, pushing up against the wall and clinging on to anything in arms reach to hold him upright. His knees still felt shaky, a chill washing down his spine - or was that from the front door still being open after last night?

Yuuri banked it away to sort out later - now, only one thing mattered - and screwed his eyes shut tight.

His thumb clicked the torch on.

“B-bloody Mary,” his voice cracked, just barely holding steady. “Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.”

What if Victor showed up covered in blood again? Yuuri’s stomach heaved at the thought, just barely holding down the bile clawing up his throat. He wasn’t sure he could handle it. He needed Victor. The Victor that asked him how his exam went. The Victor that stayed up all night watching movies with him. The Victor that smiled at him like he was the most dazzling thing in the world...

When he opened his eyes though, it wasn’t Victor at all.

A lump lodged in Yuuri’s throat.

The boy in the mirror was young. His pale skin almost glowed, face heart-shaped and delicate - until those wicked turquoise eyes narrowed in on Yuuri and his whole demeanour shifted. Yuuri jolted on instinct, feeling an uneasy sensation jerk down his spine. The boy clearly wasn’t as innocent as his outward looks might appear, tossing his chin length blonde hair out of the way of his glaring gaze. 

Death probably did that to a person.

Yuuri tried not to linger on it. “W-where’s Victor?”

Victor had said he had been the only one to die in the house and Yuuri didn’t recognise the boy staring out at him now. Why was he there instead of Victor? Unless Victor had scared one of the burglars so badly last night that there was a new body for Yuuri to find underneath the mirror upstairs…

He dashed the idea almost instantly though. The boy wasn’t new - he’d been dead a while. The dull hopeless surrender behind his initial sharp glare told that much.

The boy’s eyes narrowed in the mirror.

For a moment, Yuuri didn’t think he was going to answer him, but then-

“She took him.”

Each word was quiet, hushed. Almost whispered, like the boy was afraid of being overheard though he didn’t show an inch of it in his face. Yuuri could hear it though - the flicker of fear in his voice, see the fleeting flash of bitter sadness that dashed through his cold eyes. Guarded, but still there. 

Yuuri picked up the Russian accent instantly - stronger than Victor’s, but still understandable. He was getting used to how it sounded. 

The thought made his heart ache for Victor all the more.

“T-took him?” Yuuri doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees as his stomach turned. The torch clattered into the sink. God, he really was going to be sick... “ _ Why _ ?”

His hands shook over his kneecaps, wide eyes staring down at the taps. Victor had been taken, by her - by Bloody Mary, the woman behind the legend, the curse…

His mouth felt dry, tongue like sandpaper.

The boy ‘tsk’ed in the mirror.

“Because he didn’t kill you, dumbass,” he snapped, sharp and ruthless. Yuuri visibly winced. “Why do you think?”

_ What? _

Yuuri’s stomach lurched again. 

“B-but I didn’t turn around. Victor said-”

“Whatever he said was a fucking lie,” the boy cut off bluntly. “If you look over your shoulder, she snatches you straight away, but you’re cursed the moment you say the words no matter what you do. Three days is your limit. He was supposed to kill you, but he didn’t… so now he’s getting punished.”

The words came out harsh and bitter - and Yuuri couldn’t really blame him for it. He was alive, and he shouldn’t be. And they were feeling the wrath of his mere existence behind the mirror.

Yuuri opened his mouth … and closed it again. No words came out. Not a sound. He tried again, and again, but still nothing came out, just blabbering silently like a fish. He didn’t know what to do. He felt so useless…

And it was all his fault.

His hands clenched tight over his knees, pressing his eyes shut. He didn’t want any of this. He wished he’d never taken the stupid dare…

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he met Yurio’s eye as steadily as he dared. 

“How do I stop it?”

He was glad his voice didn’t shake, didn’t give away how he was quaking inside. He didn’t know what he was doing. Getting involved in business beyond nightmares and terrifying legends… but he couldn’t just  _ leave _ Victor.

Apparently, it wasn’t what the boy had been expecting.

He just stared at him from the mirror, eyes wide with surprise. It made him look younger, like the kid he should have been before the curse found him. “What are you talking about?”

He breathed it out, quiet and deadly.

Yuuri forced himself to ignore the chill crawling down his spine and the warning screaming in his gut. He had to do this. He had to…

“How do I get Victor out?” he asked. “If he’s getting hurt because of me-”

“Don’t be so stupid-”

“- _ if _ ,” Yuuri said louder, gathering his courage. He gripped the rim of the sink, hard enough for his knuckles to gleam white. “If there’s something I can do to help him, I have to do it. He saved my life. I can’t-” His voice broke on the last note, eyes watering with tears. He blinked them away shamefully, clearing his throat. Tears wouldn’t get Victor back. “I can’t leave him.”

For a moment, the bathroom was silent.

Yuuri held the boy’s eye in the mirror, watching the colours shift and morph as his emotions clashed. The anger was washing away, replacing slowly with something a lot more fragile, a lot more  _ fearful. _

“She doesn’t care about Victor,” he finally breathed, barely audible. “She’s just mad that he didn’t get you like he was supposed to. She wants you. She wants your blood.” 

Yuuri’s fingers clenched tighter around the sink.

It was exactly what he’d feared.

His face stayed blank on the outside though, composed. Inside, he was screaming. “I have to die?” 

Victor had said it when they’d first met - only a death in the house to replace him as the ghost in the mirror could set him free. Yuuri didn’t know why Victor had spared him, why he had saved him… but he couldn’t just leave him to rot for eternity. He couldn’t.

… but he didn’t want to die either.

He hoped the boy would say no. That it was a misunderstanding, that there was another way, that just a slither of blood from a cut would suffice her hunger - or whatever she did with her prey - but the longer the silence stretched on, the more that hope died, second by dragged out second.

The boy’s eyes steeled in the mirror, jaw clenching tight. 

“If you want to save Victor?” he said. “Yes.”

 

* * *

Yuuri watched the dawn break over the world from a city bench, hands clenched tightly together and listening to the sounds of the world waking. He watched the brilliant yellows and oranges spill from the edge of the world, glowing ball of sun peeking up into the waking world. Birds called. An icy breeze cut through the still air.

Yuuri relished every sensation like never before, committing each second to memory like it would be his last time experiencing it.

… it might be.

He hadn’t sold himself away straight away to the boy in the mirror - Yuri, he’d said his name was. A funny coincidence that would have been funny in any other situation than discussing how Yuuri might offer up his life for Victor’s.

Everything inside Yuuri was screaming at him to just walk away. 

To walk towards the sunset, leave the house behind him, and just never stop walking. He wished he could. He wished he could forget everything that had ever happened…

He didn’t realise he’d stood up until he was walking.

The long withered grass tickled under the legs of his jeans as he walked, eyes locked on the sunset, blocking out the sounds of the warehouses starting to whir to life in the industrial estate behind him. It was clear fields ahead though, stretching on, and on, and on, and -

Yuuri tripped.

His hands shot out in front of him, landing on something cold, and hard, and smooth that jolted against his palms. It took a minute for his head to stop spinning, gaze dropping to his fingers.

His heart stopped.

_ Train tracks. _

Dark and shiny with sinister promise, the tracks shone up at him in the glowing morning light, freezing cold against his skin. Yuuri couldn’t take his eyes off them, breath misting in front of his face.

Until the shrieking whistle cut through the morning.

Yuuri jerked his head up, heart hammering in his chest. He knew that sound -  _ everyone _ knew that sound! It was something that made the blood run cold in his veins, heartbeat pulsing hard in his ears. His gaze ran along the tracks, tracing them along the edge of the city warehouses... to the unmistakable shape of a train hurling down the line. 

He had a minute at most.

“ _ Fuck _ !”

He hissed under his breath, pushing up on his knees and panic tight and sharp in his chest. He had to get off these tracks, he though, pushing forward. He had to-

His hands dropped out from underneath him. His face slammed into the metal tracks without warning, hard enough to jolt his jaw hard enough to leave his teeth rattling. He tasted blood.

It took a few blinks to clear the stars swimming in front of his eyes.

And when he glanced back, he felt sick.

His legs had moved about half a foot - but a long, taut line of shoelace still connected him to the train track, disappearing around the ridge of the metal.

Yuuri’s breath hitched.

He twisted round in a heartbeat, but his hands were shaking too bad. They fumbled over the lace, over his sneaker, snagging, and pulling, and  _ praying, _ and-

Out of the corner of his eye, the sunset went black.

He was out of time.

He moved on instinct. His free foot kicked frantically at the heel of his trapped one, kicking, and kicking, and kicking, until - he gasped as his heel slipped free, scrambling with everything he had. Another whistle blasted in his ears, close - _ too close _ ! He had seconds. He summoned everything he had left, kicking and pushing like his life depended on it.

He cried out as he rolled off the tracks.

Metal dug into his shoulder as he fell, cold slapped against his bare foot - but nothing compared to the rush of wind behind him as the train hurtled past, sending him sprawling.

Yuuri’s back slapped down on the grass, knocking the breath out of him.

He stared up at the pale blue sky above with every inch of his being quaking, feeling his hands trembling, and his breaths hitch.

 

* * *

His hands dug deep in his pockets as he walked fast down the street, head down, mind racing and heart still a lump lodged in his throat. The sound of the train was still echoing in his ears, could still feel the chill of where the air had whooshed behind him just inches away from being struck.

And killed.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, pressing on to walk just a little bit faster. He wanted to get home. Home was safe. He needed safe…

A car horn blasted.

Yuuri had barely looked up before he saw the wildly swerving headlights and heard the screech of tires, swinging out of control - right towards him. His breath hitched, freezing.

_ Oh God. _

He didn’t have time to think.

His eyes shot wide and his knees crumpled, staggering back as his body failed him. He had no control. He had no chance-

The car careered over the spot where Yuuri had stood just half a second ago, crashing through the store window behind him. The sound exploded in Yuuri’s ears. Glass shattered over the pavement. He vaguely heard the screaming but it pushed to the back of his mind as his ears started to ring and he felt his head spin with shock, heart in his mouth.

 

* * *

He didn’t stop to speak to the police. He didn’t stop to speak to anyone. He just picked himself up and walked fast - fighting the urge to run - desperate to just get back to the relative safety of home. His breaths came short and sharp, rasping in his throat. The world passed around him in a blur, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end in neverending warning. It would never end, he realised. He wasn’t an idiot. 

It wasn’t all a coincidence. 

He was genuinely scared. He couldn’t escape, he realised. He couldn’t just leave it behind and pretend it had all never happened. It would follow him. 

_ She _ would hunt him.

“Hey!”

Yuuri jumped on instinct at the voice behind him, whipping round - just in time to see the vase crash into the pavement from above like a bullet. Exactly where he’d stood a moment ago. If it hadn’t been for the shout…

Yuuri stared at the shattered pieces of china scattered across the pavement, drinking in the size of the destruction. Warmth bloomed over his legs in sharp stings, jeans clinging to him just a little tighter before.  _ Blood _ , he realised slowly, numbly. He didn’t feel any pain - yet - but he knew what it was, could feel where the tiny sharps of the shattered vase had embedded into his leg. He shifted his weight gingerly. His legs held - but he felt his knees tremble.

They weren’t the only part of him shaken.

He whimpered as he realised what building he was next to - a tall, high rise office that blotted out the sun it was so high. If the vase had fallen that far and actually  _ hit him- _

Yuuri gulped hard.

 

* * *

“I need to talk to her.”

Yuri’s eyes popped in the mirror, jaw dropping open. “What the fuck?” he gasped. “Are you crazy?! You don’t just-”

“I have to,” Yuuri said, pressing his eyes shut. It helped to calm and steady him, fingers gripping tight around the torch in his hand. He was terrified. Beyond terrified… but he had to. “She’s got Victor...”

Yuuri didn’t dare think too hard about what he was about to do.

He couldn’t - if he did, he wouldn’t be brave enough to keep going, to see it through. How could he? He was willingly offering to die. 

Because really, he had no choice. 

That morning had confirmed that much to him if nothing else. 

He couldn’t think about what he was leaving behind though. He couldn’t. Not the life he might have had, his friends, his family, Phichit - oh God,  _ Phichit!  _ Yuuri’s heart balked, aching in his chest. He hoped his best friend wouldn’t find his body. He just hoped he didn’t. He didn’t want to put him through that…

He wouldn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. He hadn’t dared stop to write his farewells when he’d gotten home. He hadn’t trusted  _ her.  _ A truck would probably bulldoze into the house while he was writing, or lightning would strike him through the pen, or he would choke on air - who knew how she was going to try and kill him next? Yuuri didn’t trust it. And what would he say to his family anyway?  _ ‘Sorry I asked a ghost to take my soul, have a nice life!’? _ It would only do more harm than good.

Nothing but silence answered Yuuri.

“You know she only wants one thing, right?” Yuri finally breathed, his breath rustling his pale blonde bangs in the dimly lit mirror.

Yuuri swallowed the lump in his throat. “I know.”

He sounded calm. He  _ felt  _ relatively calm, considering what he was doing. Maybe it was the reassurance of having a plan, of making a decision, of being strong for someone else because standing up for other people was always easier than standing up for himself… he didn’t know. All he knew was that Yuri was staring at him with stark fear glittering in his turquoise eyes and Yuuri didn’t feel anywhere as unnerved as he knew he should.

His mind was made up. His fate had already been sealed three and a half days ago anyway. He was living off borrowed time already.

He nodded once, firmly.

He knew what he had to do.

Still, Yuri hesitated. Perhaps he thought Yuuri had lost it. Perhaps he was wondering if he would change his mind. Perhaps he was hoping he would change his mind - who would willingly sign up for that fate anyway? 

So many maybes, and Yuuri wasn’t brave enough to ask in case his will finally faltered. He had to do this, he told himself, holding the torch in an iron grip. He had to, he had to, he had to-

“Close your eyes.”

Yuuri scrunched his eyes shut, breath hitching quietly. 

Now, he could feel his heartbeat pounding in his throat. Now, he could feel his skin crawl with warning. Now, he could feel the cold creeping over him like someone was walking over his grave.

He  _ knew. _

He opened his eyes.

Yuri was gone - Bloody Mary filled her rightful place in the mirror instead.

She was everything he had feared her to be. White, papery skin with her thin face painfully gaunt, eye sockets so sunken they looked almost black in the shadowed light. Her dark hair hung dirty and bedraggled around her, glistening with grease and something else Yuuri didn’t want to think about. Her body looked withered, decayed,  _ dead _ … but not her eyes. The eyes that where as black as a raven yet glistening with a wild, ravenous hunger, eyeing up Yuuri like he was something to eat.

She was everything the stories and legends said an evil witch would look like, the truth behind the myth. She had been what Victor had faced that first night all those years ago...

And she still had him.

Yuuri refused to let himself flinch. He couldn’t - for Victor’s sake. He owed it to him to be strong, to be brave like Victor had been for him.

He must have known what she would do to him for sparing Yuuri, yet he had done it anyway. He hadn’t let Yuuri die even though it would have ended his own torment of being trapped in the mirror. Yuuri didn’t know what could possibly be worse, what she could possibly have done more to him in  _ punishment _ . He didn’t want to know. He wasn’t sure he could take it.

Because he could see no mercy in her dark, cruel eyes. Whatever she was doing to Victor, Yuuri knew he couldn’t even begin to imagine.

And he couldn’t abandon Victor to it.  

He didn’t move from his spot in front of the mirror. He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t even blink - he was still and silent like he was made of stone, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering in his throat like it was choking him.

When she smiled, Yuuri counted at least three black teeth.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, praying his voice would hold steady. He didn’t want her to see him afraid. He didn’t want her to see him weak.

“I have an offer,” he forced out, each word slow and firm. He made sure every syllable came out smooth and perfect, refusing to budge even an inch. He held her eye as much as he dared, that greedy black gaze piercing like it was staring right into his soul… “Victor,” he croaked, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. “Let him go. Let him go, and you can have my soul willingly. I’ll be yours.”

In the mirror, her blackened smile widened.

That was what she wanted after all, right? Him. His soul, his youth, his life - whatever it was the legend said. Every tale was different.

Yuuri almost didn’t want to know the details for sure. It wouldn’t be pleasant, whatever it was. He just knew there was no way out of it. If he was going to face his fate, he’d rather face it head on with whatever courage and dignity he could summon. It was all for Victor anyway, he reminded himself, righting his hand sharply as the torch started to bow in his grip. He was doing it for Victor...

“Free!” he chipped in quickly, heart stuttering in his chest. “N-not just out of punishment, but free. He can go. He can move on. He just ... won’t be trapped anymore.”

That was what  _ he  _ wanted. 

He didn’t trust her after all. He didn’t want to leave any loophole for her to drop Victor through into something even worse. He wanted Victor out of the curse entirely.

He wanted him to be at peace.

“I’ll take his place,” Yuuri went on, laying out his bargain clearly. He wasn’t taking any chances. “You can have me.”

Air rushed out of his lungs in one smooth, long sigh. Resignation. Defeat. He had lost. He had dodged death too many times, but there was no way to truly escape it. He was doomed. He would at least go down doing the right thing. He would do something worth dying for.

His fingers clenched tight around the torch, trying to focus on the way the rubber on the handle rubbed off on his sweaty palm. The hard, smooth plastic. The dust particles that danced in the light beam. All the little things that had never seemed to matter before, suddenly so fleeting and precious.

He was out of time.

“...deal?” 

The breath misted in front of his face with his sigh, fogging up the bottom of the mirror with an ominous chill. 

Her smile widened in the mirror, sickening and scary, making Yuuri’s stomach flip horribly with anticipation. The mirror shifted - like light was passing over it - but there was no light, the image of Bloody Mary twitching, and flickering, and-

A chill brushed over Yuuri’s shoulder.

He glanced back before he could stop himself. 

Bony fingers snatched out from the wall behind him - nails like talons - and Yuuri’s heart stopped. The world went black before the scream had even left his lips.

 

* * *

Yuuri woke up in darkness. Real darkness. Darkness like the blackest shadow that didn’t shift or brighten no matter how much he let his eyes blink to adjust. Everything stayed ink black, impenetrable.

He pushed himself up slowly, fingers pressed down against the smooth, cold surface beneath. It was hard against his knees, solid and unforgiving.

Like a mirror.

Yuuri didn’t need to see it to  _ know. _

It was done.

His breath shuddered as he looked around him - and still saw nothing. Everything was still. Everything was silent. Yuuri felt shivers crawl up his spine, his heart pounding hard behind his ribcage. Was this it? Was this his curse? Was this where Victor had been trapped? No wonder Yuri had been so afraid before, had looked at him like he was crazy when he’d volunteered to take Victor’s place…

...who would willingly condemn themselves to this forever?

Tears stung at Yuuri’s eyes, the reality crashing down on him like it would crush him. His breaths came short. His heart skipped a beat. Whimpers slipped through his lips.

This couldn’t be it.

Nothing.

No one.

For an eternity...

“H-hello?” he called out, as loud as he dared. The words just bounced back at him, echoing through the nothingness. It only made Yuuri feel more alone.

What had he done?

He pulled his legs up, hugging them tight to his chest. It helped ground him, holding himself together on the outside as he wrestled with the inside. He couldn’t see a thing. Anything could be watching him -  _ she _ could be watching him! - and he’d never know it. The thought filled him with terror, abandoned in the darkness.

Until a light flickered.

At first, it reminded Yuuri of the way a lighter flickered to life. Was this how it worked? He wondered, squinting his eyes against the small, but bright light. Was this how it looked from the other side of the mirror when someone said the Bloody Mary curse?

Yuuri leaned towards it, unable to help himself. He was drawn to it. He  _ needed _ it, desperate to find anything other than this crushing darkness.

His knees nearly gave way entirely when he skaily pushed himself to his feet, staggering forward a step through the unknown. The light was blurry around the edge - more like a soft, pearlescent glow than the sharp yellow flicker of a flame. Yuuri took another step towards it. He had to.

He felt the tears grow cold on his face, wet and mocking. He knew - he’d underestimated what he’d been letting himself in for. Just minutes into his eternity and he already couldn’t bear it…

His breaths sounded impossibly loud as they rasped through his lungs, the only relief to the unbearable silence. He wasn’t even sure if he  _ needed _ to breathe anymore. If she had won - and he was dead - did the dead breathe? He’d never thought about it before, chest hitching with a gasp more out of instinct than anything else.

He kept his eyes on the light, stumbling towards it. His beacon through the darkness, his light at the end of the tunnel... 

Then, he froze.

It wasn’t a light at all.

“No…” he croaked out, staggering back a step in horror. Cold washed over him, dread like he’d never known before settling over his bones. “ _ No… _ ”

As soon as he recognised the pale skin, the silver hair, the bright blue eyes… Yuuri felt sick as Victor stepped towards him through the shadows, glowing like a star. His hand clasped over his mouth, knees finally folding beneath him. They slapped hard against the unforgiving floor, vaguely hearing the mirror surface crack under his kneecaps. He didn’t notice it. He didn’t feel any pain.

“No, s-she-” he just gasped through his fingers, unaware of anything else, chest tight. The air felt thin. “She said she would let you go…”

Victor just stood there, a soft smile on his lips.

What could Victor possibly have to smile about? Yuuri wondered, breathless. They’d lost. They were stuck in the mirror, stuck in death, stuck with no way out…

His eyes pressed shut, feeling the tears squeeze out and run down down his cheeks as he did. He couldn’t look at Victor. He couldn’t look at what he’d done. The light radiating off Victor’s skin was too bright, burning against his eyelids and only fuelling the guilt raging inside him. He’d been supposed to save Victor. What had he done?

“She did.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched -  _ what? _

He blinked up dumbly, eyelashes fluttering fast against the sting of Victor’s glow. He didn’t understand... “T-then why-”

“I chose to stay.”

Yuuri’s eyes popped wide.

It stunned him into silence, air catching in his lungs all over again. Had he heard right? Victor had chose to-

“ _ Why?”  _

It hadn’t been what Yuuri had wanted. He’d wanted Victor to escape, to be at peace at last, to be free…

“I am free.”

Victor sank slowly to his knees, eyes falling level with Yuuri’s. They were glowing like sapphires, beautifully radiant, sparkling with his smile. His teeth shone in the darkness. Yuuri hadn’t realised he’d said all that aloud, but maybe he had. The ringing in his ears made it hard to tell. The loud gulp of every rasping breath he raked in made it harder. 

Pins and needles danced over his fingers, numbing the sharp cracks of the shattered mirror edge bearing into his skin as he fell forward.

He couldn’t bear it.

He’d trapped them both, cursed them both. He’d ruined everything…

He gasped as something ran over his hand through the prickling numbness though, watching slender pale fingers slide delicately over his. Slowly. Tentatively. Almost afraid. The air choked in his lungs. It couldn’t be…

He glanced up.

Victor’s glowing crystal gaze was waiting for him. His smile stretched wide. “Free to be with you…”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat.

They were touching.

_ Finally.  _

“Yes,” Victor chuckled, sound breathlessly beautiful. Yuuri could listen to it forever, watching the way the corners of Victor’s eyes crinkled adorably… then his smile sobered a fraction, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I can do this too,” he rasped.

Yuuri didn’t have a moment to wander. 

He didn’t need it. 

The instant Victor leaned in, Yuuri was fluttering his eyes shut and leaning in too, meeting him halfway. His fingers curled around Victor’s - savouring the contact. They could touch. They could be together. And as Yuuri sucked in his next breath and tasted Victor on his lips, felt the pressure of his mouth on his, he wondered if eternity would really be so bad.


End file.
